


Those Hazel Eyes

by LadyVellyn



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVellyn/pseuds/LadyVellyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay believed women should only be used for bed-warming and hunting until that is, he finds himself drowning in those hazel eyes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for choosing to read my story. I'm new to this, so please cut me some slack. Mostly based on the tv show :)

Ramsay was already waiting in the courtyard of the Dreadfort when the rider came to inform him that the men were close. He heard the hooves of the horses clattering nosily against the stone that climbed to his castle. He had envisioned his father’s home coming for weeks and couldn't wait any longer to show him his well-earned prize. The horses came cantering into the courtyard and were quickly tugged in different directions to give room for Lord Bolton and his new wife. His father’s horse came to stop in the middle of his men with Locke close behind. 

The changing weather had done his father no good as the old man looked older than ever shrouded in his leather armour and furs but it wasn’t his father who caught his eye first, but his new bride. She was nothing like Ramsay had expected as he watched her dismount gracelessly from her horse, pulling her skirts almost around her waist as she fell. Raising his eyebrow, he watched her rearrange her skirts, trying to make herself look more presentable but failing terribly. His father had traced his staring eyes and interrupted the look of disgust. 

‘Walda’ he ushered her forward. ’This is Ramsay Snow, my bastard’. Ramsay’s eyes flickered darker as his father’s words rung out through his ears. After everything he’s accomplished in the last weeks, surely he deserved more than that bone cutting word; bastard. 

Shaking the thoughts, he stepped forward, painting a fake smile on his face as he kissed her fat cheek. ‘A pleasure mother’. Walda squeeked her welcome as Ramsay stepped backwards away from her. As Roose opened his mouth to speak, the courtyard once again was filled with clattering hooves. A large chestnut mare cantered through the gates as her rider pulled her reigns to halt, pulling her around into a tight circle before dismounting and throwing her reigns to the stable boy. The whole courtyard was silent as they watched the girl stride towards Walda, taking her place to her right. 

‘So sorry I’m late my Lord but I was distracted on the way here’ she flashed him a gleaming smile. Roose raised his eyebrow as he smirked at his sister in law. Ramsay raised both his eyebrows as he looked from his father to the maid. Usually such disobedience would earn a whipping but his father seemed unfazed by her actions. Walda sighed angrily as she watched the communication between them. It was clear that Roose favored the hazel eyed beauty, as had every man, but it was Walda who had become Lady Bolton and Bria would do good to remember it. 

‘See that the horses are fed, watered and rubbed down’ instructed Roose, ‘and take Lady Walda and her handmaiden to their chambers’. Ramsay watched intently as one of his whores lead Walda and her sister away from the courtyard and towards the chambers. She has caught his eye as she walked past, her hazel staring hauntingly into his grey.  
‘Where is your prize?’ interrupted his father. ‘Uh..with the hounds’ he answered, ejecting her eyes from his thoughts. ‘I’ll have a look at him’ his father confirmed as he also walked towards the chambers, leaving Ramsay.

‘I hear you took a hand from the kingslayer’ he smiling gleefully at Locke. ‘Word travels’ he confirmed as they walked towards the kennels. ‘Oh how he screamed, you would have loved it’. Both men snickered loudly. As they reached the kennel door, Ramsay could feel his skin crawling as another set of eyes watched him. Following the stare, he was met again by hazel eyes. She smirked and disappeared but Ramsay couldn't take his eyes off the spot until Locke nudged him gently.

‘Be careful with that one’ he warned ‘she’s dangerous’. Ramsay looked back at him, confused. ‘Please, continue’ he instructed as he unlocked the large, wooden kennel door. ‘She’s Walda’s sister. Bria I believe. She was sent by Walder as a handmaiden for Lady Bolton even though your father explained they had many whores here at the Dreadfort able to complete this task, Walder insisted. Why would he insist that one of his well-bred, high born granddaughter comes here without being married off you ask? Because he cannot control her. She is feisty and rude, does what she wants when she wants. He couldn't marry her off, even to the Imp! Old gods knows he’s tried but she suffocated her last husband to be while he slept. She’s a clever one that’

Ramsay’s eyes lit up as he listened to Locke’s description of Walda’s sister but he had to admit it was true. It was unheard off to send a highborn lady away from home without securing a marriage first but she sounded like a challenge and the old gods know Ramsay liked a challenge. ‘Very pretty though’ he confirmed ‘prettier than any of the whores I have here’. ‘Oh yes’ boomed Locke, ‘the girl has been blessed with many things’.


	2. Chapter 2

‘And take Lady Walda and her handmaiden to their chambers’. Walda shuffled forward following the maid who would escort her and her sister to their permanent rooms. Bria smirked as she watched her sister trying to avoid the muddy puddles that adorned the courtyard floor as she courtesied sarcastically to Lord Bolton. As she followed her sister, she ensured she stood in every puddle behind her, making the water splash up on her boots and britches and if she tried hard enough, over the back of Walda’s dress. ‘Will you STOP’ huffed Walda as Bria closed in on her. 

She couldn't help but smirk at she looked up, catching the eye of the young Lord. His eyes were a pale steel blue that flashed grey as she looked into them and him into hers. Pushing herself forward, she followed her sister up the stone stairs towards the chambers. The Dreadfort was known for being cold and dark but she didn’t believe anyone’s description could portray how dark and cold it actually was. The walls were damp and the stone floors were slippery. ‘There would be no home comforts here’ she thought. 

Finally, the maid pushed open a wooden door. It unveiled a large room full of furniture and decoration. The fire burned brightly but it hadn’t shifted the frosty air that filled Walda’s chambers. A large bed had been made up in the middle of the room, draped with furs and material and two maids were moving Walda’s dresses into a cabinet. 

‘Welcome my lady’ came a small voice as they both curtsied at Walda's feet. Walda smiled warmly at them as she ran her fingers over the furs on the bed. This was to be her home now. Bria watched her sister carefully. Her face was emotionless as she walked around the chamber which Bria was surprised by. She thought this would be a happy day but Walda looked so sad. ‘Sister…’ she began but was cut off by Walda’s raised hand.  
‘Leave us. Wait outside’ she instructed to the maids who left hastily, closing the door behind them. Walda looked up and down at Brie before running her hands over the furs once more. 

‘Now we are ladies of Dreadfort, it is time that we dressed as such’ Brie furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at her sister. 

‘I don’t understand?’

‘Look at us Brie, we are dressed as grandfather dressed us! This is a new beginning for both of us and I would like new dresses. I believe that you, as my handmaiden, should also wear dresses when serving me. We are to be ladies here, no more britches and shirts. We shall have our hair braided every morning and baths every evening.’ Brie raised her eyebrows. ‘No objections Brie. I am now Lady Bolton and this is how I want it to be. Now, take one of my dresses to the dressmaker and tell her to begin to sew. Hopefully they will have some material there to make you a dress today!’ 

‘Of course, Lady Bolton’ seethed Bria as she took one of her sister’s dressed from the cabinet, leaving the room. The servant girls were gathered outside and jumped back as Brie swung open the door. 

‘Take me to the dressmaker – NOW’ 

The servant scampered off as Bria followed her, stamping her boots on the floor as she went. She had never liked being told what to do, especially by her fat sister. ‘Dresses? PAH’ she thought to herself ‘I’ll give her dresses!’  
As she stomped loudly across the corridors, she heard muffled voices outside. There were numerous windows she’d passed as she followed the servant which she assumed looked out over the courtyard. Pressing her sister’s dress down on the wet window sill, she glanced through the open window. There, walking towards the kennels was Ramsay and the Bolton’s best and favoured hunter, Locke. She watched Ramsay carefully as placed the key within the lock of the kennels. Suddenly, he turned to look up at her, his eyes cutting into her skin. She jumped back slightly but not enough so that he could not see her. His eyes flashed grey again as the servant girl came back down the corridor. 

‘My lady?’ she questioned quietly 

‘I am no Lady’ Bria baited as she pulled back from the window, her sister’s dress covered in damp and mould. The servant pressed on until they finally reached the dressmakers chambers. The door was ajar as Bria entered. 

‘And who might you be? The new Lady Bolton?’ came an old voice from underneath mounds of material. Brie searched intently to the source of the noise with her eyes before answering. 

‘No, I am Lady Bolton’s handmaiden. I am Bria Fray’ 

‘Ahhh..Yes. I've heard all about you.’ came the reply ‘How may I be of assistance, Lady Fray’ 

‘My sister would like new dresses. I have brought one of her old dresses for you. She’s also informed me that I must also wear dresses when serving her but I have none and she asked if you had anything you could make today for me…please’ Bria had made a choice to forget her manners many moons ago but something about the soothing voice made her remember them. 

A little old lady appeared from behind the mound of materials and furs, walking slowly towards Bria, her eyes measuring her as she got closer. ‘Do you have anything in mind Lady Frey?’ 

‘Oh, I am not Lady Frey for I am not married.’

‘You may not be married my sweetheart but you are still granddaughter to Walder Frey are you not? A high-born Lady? Do not forget your roots my child’ 

Bria played with her hands as a child would do as the old lady surrounded her, measuring and muttering to herself. 

‘Come back at nightfall Lady Bria and I will have something prepared for you’ she said, scuttling back towards the mounds of material. 

‘Thank you’ nodded Bria as she left the chamber. 

The servant girl has been waiting patiently outside for her. ‘Shall I take you to your chamber now Lady Bria?’ she asked. Bria nodded soundlessly as she servant took her further away from the direction they had come. 

‘Are my chambers not close to my sisters?’ she questioned the servant. 

‘No my Lady – Lady Bolton asked for your rooms to be the other side of the castle from her and Lord Bolton. She said you could walk to her chambers every morning and do not need to be close to them’ 

Bria raised her eyebrow knowingly. Obviously her sister’s insecurities were playing on her mind. Finally arriving at her chambers, the servant pushed open the door to produce a smaller but cosier room for Bria.  
The fire was roaring as it was in Walda’s room but as the confines were smaller, the warmth had filled it easier. There was a bed, covered in furs as Walda’s had been, a small table and two wooden chairs, and a small bowl with washing materials that sat atop her clothing cabinet. 

Stepping inside, Bria cherished the warmth. She knew she would find herself very happy here. ‘Are you close by?’ she asked as she took in her surroundings 

‘No my lady – us servant girls and handmaidens has chambers on the bottom floor. It is only you and Ramsay on this level’. Bria turned to look at the servant girl who has begun to unpack her trunk.  
‘Ramsay?’ she questioned

‘Yes, my lady. Lord Roose insisted that you had your own chambers away from us and decided this one would be best fitting for you. He has also told me that I am to be your handmaiden while you are serving your sister. I am Maren but he asked politely that you do not tell your sister I am in your service’

‘Well, I shall have to personally thank Lord Roose for my beautiful chambers and my helpful handmaiden’ she murmured, hazel eyes glittering.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a filler chapter but there's more exciting things around the corner! There is a bit of a time difference between this and the tv show but I feel it's needed for the continuation of the story. I hope none of you mind! Thanks for all your kind words :) Not doing too bad for my first go haha!

Roose lowered himself down into his chair carefully. The great hall was cold but the servant boys had lit the fire minutes before and the new warmth was welcomed. Locke, who had left Ramsay in the kennels, found his place by the window and was re-sharpening his sword as Roose took a long drink of his wine. The footsteps that echoed down the corridor alerted them to Ramsay and his prize being close and it wasn’t long until they were greeted with their presence. 

‘Father’ declared Ramsay as he shoved Theon towards him. Roose placed his cup on the table beside his chair and walked towards them. ‘What did you do to him?’ he questioned, examining Theon closely. 

‘I trained him’ exclaimed Ramsay as he smirked sadistically,’ He was a slow learner but he learned’

‘You flayed him’ sighed his father, glancing at his son.

‘Peeled a few bits…removed a few others’ he confirmed while playing with his guilty hands, glancing at Locke, who sharpened his sword still  
‘This was Balon Greyjoy’s son and heir’.

‘We’ve been flaying our enemies for a thousand years…the flayed man is on our banners’ remarked Ramsay, trying to keep his anger at bay.   
‘MY banners, not yours! You’re not a Bolton, you are a snow’. Anger flicked across Ramsay’s face. There it was again, that word. He swallowed harshly as Roose walked away from him. 

‘Tywin Lannister has given me the North…but he won’t lift a finger to help me take it. As long as the Ironborn hold Moat Cailin, our armies are trapped south of the neck. Theon was a valuable hostage, not your plaything’ Ramsay looked down at his feet. Never had he felt so small. 

‘I wanted to trade him for Moat Cailin....’

‘I've already asked’ interrupted Ramsay ‘Lord Greyjoy refused. Savages....’ 

‘You sent terms to Balon Greyjoy without my consent?’ questioned Roose sternly 

‘You made me acting Lord of the Dreadfort’ replied Ramsay sullenly, ‘I acted’

Roose sighed loudly and placed himself directly in front of his son. ‘I had to smuggle myself into my own lands thanks to the Greyjoys. I needed Theon. I needed him whole’ spoke Roose patronizingly.

 

‘Theon was our enemy…but Reek, Reek will never betray us’ 

‘I placed far too much trust in you’. The words cut through Ramsay like a knife as he stood toe to toe with his father. 

‘Reek’ Ramsay finally spoke ‘How could you let me stand before my father unshaven? It’s disrespectful’ 

‘Sorry my Lord’ came Theon’s tiny voice.

‘Give him the razor’ instructed Ramsay to Locke while he wet his face. Locke shot a warning look to Roose who stared back at Ramsay who strode towards Roose’s chair. ‘I’m not a Bolton father, what does it matter?’ he questioned as he sat down. Roose nodded carefully to Locke who passed Theon the razor. 

‘Go on Reek, nice close shave’. Theon carefully dragged the razor over Ramsay’s throat as he spoke again. 

‘Reek, tell father…where are Bran and Rickon Stark?’

‘I don’t know my Lord’ he stuttered.

‘You murdered them’ confirmed Roose, watching Theon intently. ‘And displayed their corpses at Winterfell’ 

‘Reek, did you murder the Stark boys?’

‘No my Lord, just two farm boys....’

‘And crisped them so no one would know’ finished Ramsay

‘Yes my Lord’

‘The Starks have always ruled the North’ Ramsay directed at his father ‘If Bran and Rickon are alive, the country will rally to their side..now that Robb Stark is gone’. The razor stopped right over Ramsay’s jugular and his steel eyes shot open. 

‘Oh..that’s right Reek, Robb Stark is dead. I’m sorry, I know he was like a brother to you but my father put a knife through his heart. How do you feel about that’ he said in a whisper.

All eyes fell upon Theon as he began to shave Ramsay once more. 

‘Are you ready for a hunt?’ questioned Roose as he looked at Locke.

‘Always’ came the reply.

‘Find those boys and I’ll give you a thousand acres and a hold fast…but not today. Begin tomorrow. Take tonight as a reward for your good service for the last couple of weeks’   
‘My lord, I am thankful’ replied Locke ‘Your pet rat have any thoughts on which way they went after Winterfell?’

‘Jon Snow’s at Castle Black’ murmured Theon.

‘Who the fuck is Jon Snow?’ questioned Locke.

‘Their bastard brother. He could be sheltering them, could know where they are’.

Ramsay raised to his feet before continuing his father’s conversation. ‘Even if he doesn't, he’s half Stark himself…could be a threat’ 

‘You want to prove yourself a Bolton?’ Asked Roose as Ramsay’s eyes lit up. ‘Gather whatever men you can and ride for Moat Cailin. Bring this creature of yours, maybe he’ll be of some use. Take the moat for the family, for our family and I’ll reconsider your position’

Once again, Ramsay’s face lit up as he heard his father’s words. Striding over to Theon, he grabbed his arm harshly, making Theon squeak before pushing him towards the door.   
‘One more thing’ started Ramsay, ‘who is Lady Bolton’s handmaiden’. Roose looked up from the papers strewn across the table. 

‘Ah’ he smirked ‘I wondered how long it would be before she caught your eye. She is Lady Bria Frey and she is to be treated no less than a Lady, do I make myself clear?’

‘Why did you bring her here?’

‘She was given to me by Walder Frey. He had no use for her but we may have. She’s feisty and good with a sword as well as a bow. She’s caught my eye and I believe she could be the daughter I never had. She may be worth something to us one day so I say once again, she is to be treated as you would treat Lady Walda, no flaying or whipping as you do your whores and you speak to her with respect. If I hear you have discomforted her in any way, I shall flay you alive, do I make myself clear?’ 

‘Yes, father’ replied Ramsay through gritted teeth before manhandling Theon through the door and back to the kennels.


	4. Chapter 4

It was late when Maren came to Bria’s chambers. Bria had just finished the food that was sent to her room as she was yet to receive the proper dress from the dress maker and Lady Bolton had banned her from eating with the Bolton’s until it arrived. 

‘My lady’ mumbled Maren as she prised open the door ‘I’ve been sent by the dress maker’. Bria sighed as she stood up, pushing the table across the stone floor to allow her room to move from her chair and followed her servant back to the dress maker’s chambers. The Dreadfort seemed different at night and she was glad for Maren’s company. The door was shut tight when they arrived and both ladies looked at each other before Maren decided to knock. 

Suddenly, the door flung open, presenting once again the tumps of fur and material. ‘Come in, come in!’ ushered the old lady as she closed the door behind them. Gently, she escorted Bria to the opposite side of the room, where her dress lay on a chair. 

‘Is…is that for me?’ questioned Bria lightly as she fondled the beautiful dress that lay in front of her. She turned to the old lady who smiled and nodded. It was nothing like Bria had expected but it was absolutely perfect! The dress was comprised of brown leather and a cream lace; a brown corset with cream lace material pouncing out of the top which covered her breasts. The skirt hung long, brown with cream lace at the bottom and would be the perfect length with her boots. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would be presented with such a dress. So overcome with delight, she reached down and hugged the old lady tightly.   
‘Oh dear’ she smiled, ‘It’s no bother honestly!’ 

‘Thank you so much’ smiled Bria as Maren stepped forward to admire it. 

‘This is only one though, I’ll be making you another five or six’ she laughed happily ‘but this will do you for now. I also made you a night shift as I assumed you had none’   
Bria beamed as she ran her silk night shift through her hands. It was so dainty and pretty! ‘Nothing like me!’ she thought. 

‘Fit for a lady’ confirmed the dressmaker, watching Bria intently. 

‘I can’t thank you enough’.

‘It’s no problem my dear but you should be getting back to your chambers now. It’s getting late and these walls hold dark secrets at night’.

Bria embraced the old lady once more as Maren collected her Lady’s new clothes before embarking on their journey back to the chambers. The dress maker was right, the atmosphere within the Dreadfort was completely different at night and Bria was on edge walking back to her room. As they got closer, both she and Maren could hear moans and groans coming from the chamber next to hers. Maren scuttled forward, opened Bria’s door with haste but Bria hung back, placing her ear at the door to listen before Maren reached for her hand and hauled her to her chamber. 

‘So? Ramsay’s..shall we say…active?’ giggled Bria. Maren rolled her eyes as she nodded. 

‘Who’s the lucky lady?’.

‘Myranda’ answered Maren as she put the dress away, leaving the shift draped over the bed, ‘she’s his bed-warmer officially but we all know what that means. He takes her hunting and favors her over us all’.

‘Ah’ smiled Bria ‘I've heard ALL about Ramsay’s hunting trips’. Maren shivered at the thought as Bria continued ‘but don’t you worry, you’ll be safe with me’.  
‘Thank you my lady’ she smiled widely ‘Do you need any help getting undressed?’.

‘No thank you Maren’ confirmed Bria as she poured herself some wine ‘but you are welcome to stay here with me tonight if you wish. I shall make you a bed out of my furs’. Maren’s eyes lit up and Bria couldn't help but giggle. 

‘I would be honoured but only if you wish my lady’ but by this time, Bria had already thrown the furs onto the floor and began to arrange them carefully before the fire. Finally, after trying it herself, she pointed her hand to the make shift bed as Maren clambered onto it. 

Quickly undressing, Bria slipped her bed shift over her head. It fitted perfectly, clinging to her curves and breasts. Climbing carefully into her bed, she placed her hand under the pillow as if to retrieve something but pulling her hand away empty. Pushing herself back onto the floor, she found her prize tucked away in her trunk; her small dagger. Climbing again into her first night sleep at the Dreadfort, she placed the dagger under her pillow and doused the candles. It wasn't long before she heard the slight snore coming from the direction of the floor which confirmed Maren was asleep and for once, Bria was thankful for the comfort it brought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a few of you might have found the first couple of chapters a little boring and pointless but they will become juicier from here on it.  
> Thanks for reading!

Ramsay wasn't sure what woke him; the clashing of swords outside his chamber or his servant boy falling through his door, blood pouring from his slit neck but boy, was he ready for a fight. It had taken him seconds to lace up his britches and to source his daggers before heading out of his chamber. The corridor seemed to be swarming with Ironborn but the Bolton boys were putting up a good fight as Ramsay surged his dagger into the nearest intruder. 

The clang’s of iron swords was a familiar sound to Bria and she woke the instant she heard it, reaching automatically for her dagger. Maren continued to snore on as she laced up her boots and carefully hid her weapon under her shift before prising open the door carefully and quietly. The scene she was met was dark and bloody with boys strewn across the floor but still, the fight continued. She saw Ramsay was being over powered by a larger Ironborn as she crept out, using the darkness to hide herself. Sneaking cautiously, she managed to skulk to the opposite wall, engulfed in darkness before tiptoeing further down the corridor to where Ramsay was fighting. As quiet as a mouse, she positioned herself behind the Ironborn, still unsure how she hadn’t been seen. Raising her dagger, she slit the Iron man’s throat with such velocity, his whole body turned towards her, splattering his blood everywhere. As his body fell gracefully to the floor, Ramsay stood agape watching her. 

The vision in front of him was a beautiful one, her dark hair which framed her face flowed freely down her back, her nightshift hugged her body tightly presenting curves he’s never seen before. Her dainty hand held a bloody dagger while her white shift had been unceremoniously dyed red. Her hazel eyes mirrored his stare while a smirk reached her face. Bria had always been beautiful but now, as she stood in front of him, Ramsay could see perfection staring right back at him. 

Unexpectedly, slight movement behind his vision caught his eye, a movement Bria hadn't seen. An injured Ironborn had risen and had begun running towards them, wielding his sword. ‘Bria’ whispered Ramsay hurriedly, ‘curtsy’. Ramsay hoped it would confuse the Ironborn into thinking they had not seen him, making his downfall. Furrowing her eyebrows as she heard her command but without questioning, curtsied low to the ground, giving Ramsay a perfect shot at the man’s heart. 

Hurling his dagger, it hit the intended target and the large man fell to the floor. Ramsay lent his hand down to Bria, helping her to her feet before retrieving his dagger. ‘You…you saved my life’ she stuttered. 

‘And you, me’ he confirmed. She smiled, not a smirk but a full face smile, enough to lighten up any dark rooms or corridors of the Dreadfort and Ramsay could not stop himself from returning it. 

‘Even monster’s need looking after sometimes’ she uttered quietly, looking into his pale eyes. He signed quietly – did she really believe he was a monster? The clanging of swords resounding from the courtyard echoed through the walls reminding them they still had work to do. 

‘Stay’ instructed Ramsay 

‘No, there’s still a fight to be had!’ Ramsay looked deeper into her hazel eyes. The determination was easy to read and he didn’t have time to fight his own men. He instinctively held out his hand for her to grab as they ran towards the kennels and was surprised when her hand slid perfectly into his. 

On arrival at the kennels, his men were outside with Locke. They raised their eyebrows as they saw their Lord running towards them with Bria trailing behind. ‘Well what are we waiting for men?’ questioned Ramsay as they approached, ‘we have no time for waiting around!’ 

Ramsay walked into the kennels first, his men and Bria walking behind him. ‘Well, this is turning into a lovely night!’ he commented, watching the scene in front of him unfold. 

‘I have come to rescue my brother’ 

‘Well you have bigger balls that he ever had!’ 

‘I see you've brought your whore with you’ Yara motioned her hand towards Bria ‘She won’t do you any good here!’ Ramsay could feel the anger bubbling and burning inside of him. 

‘She…she is no whore’ he spat angrily ‘she is a huntress, a warrior…and you will pay for those words with your life!’ The Bolton’s ran forward, swords colliding with shields, daggers plunging into bodies. Bria had managed to escape any real harm, only a few scratches as the Ramsay unleashed his hounds, chasing the Greyjoy’s back towards their ships. 

Ramsay on the other hand, was covered in gashes and bruises. He walked slowly towards Bria, running his hand over her superficial cuts. ‘Their nothing’ she advised him, ‘all in a day’s work my Lord’. Ramsay was tired and out of breath but he managed a short smile as he tried to recover his breathing. 

‘My Lord…and Lady’ interrupted a servant boy, ‘Lord Bolton would like to see you both in the Great Hall at once’ 

‘Of course he would’ uttered Ramsay, taking a breather they both walked towards the courtyard, leaving his men to watch over Theon and his dogs. 

As Bria and Ramsay entered the hall, she took a good look around it. Its high ceilings and paper maps that hung on the walls reminded her of The Twins and it was always nice to be reminded of home. These thoughts were disturbed by her sisters wrapping her up in an embrace. 

‘Oh dear sister!’ she wept gently on Bria’s shoulder. Roose watched them both before speaking to Ramsay. 

‘Why didn’t you alert me son?’

‘We had no time father, they were outside my chambers when I was awoken!’ 

‘We must train our defences better. It could have ended in complete disaster if not for you…and Lady Bria’. Ramsay smirked at this compliment before gazing over at Bria, still draped in her sister but not once returning the embrace. 

‘Lady Bria’ he started, directing his voice towards her, ‘I have heard you fought well tonight. I have therefore decided to give you less responsibility to give yourself more free time. A young lady like yourself should be living her life, not serving on my wife!’ Walda huffed slightly at hearing this. 

‘You will need to visit her at morning time but that will be all. Any more time you spend with her will be at your leisure. I also request your presence at every food time, unless you request otherwise. I also understand if you would like better chambers. Better ones are available for you if needs be.’

‘Thank you my Lord, you are far too kind but I shall like to keep my chambers as they are if possible…and without the dresses?’ Roose smirked long and hard at her before sending them both away but only after he had prised his wife away from her sister. 

‘Where are your chambers Lady Bria?’ began Ramsay ‘I shall accompany you to them, to ensure you are safe of course’ 

‘Please, Lord Bolton, call me Bria and there is no need, for my chambers are next to yours’. Ramsay’s eyes flickered grey again as he heard these words. 

‘Pray Bria, call me Ramsay’ 

Trundling along the dark corridors, the earlier feeling of foreboding had left, leaving only calm in its wake. The sun has begun to rise, showering its light over the closest mountains as Bria yawned into her hand, Ramsay watching her every move. 

As they arrived at her door, she curtsied low to him. ‘Thank you, once again’ she smiled as she rose. 

‘No, thank you’ he smiled, kissing her bloody hand. The kiss sent jolts up of electricity up her arm and her breathe caught a little in her throat. Ramsay glanced up at her as he released her hand, showing that he too, had felt what she felt. 

‘Goodnight, Ramsay’ 

‘Goodnight, Bria’


	6. Chapter 6

Morning came and went before Bria rose from her bed. Quietly, she lifted herself up within the furs and glanced around her empty chamber before placing her feet on the cold, slate floor. She stretched her toes and reached her arms to the ceiling, noticing the dried blood that had made its home on her hands and arms. She inspected it carefully as her chamber door opened. Maren peeked towards the bed and smiled as she noticed Bria was awake before scuttling away again. Bria furrowed her brows together as she watched the open door intently. Before long, Maren reappeared, bringing with her two more servants carrying an iron bath tub. Placing it before the fire, they began to boil and fill it with warm water until Maren was content with it. 

‘My lady’ she smiled as she gestured towards it, ‘I thought you may need one after last night’s troubles’. Bria smiled brightly at her as she walked towards the tub, running her fingers through the water.

‘Will you help me to wash and braid my hair?’ 

‘Of course my Lady, it would be my honor’. Bria smiled brightly at her once again as Maren left her chamber for Bria to undress. Slipping the bloody shift down her body, she touched her scratches carefully before rummaging in her trunk. Finally, finding her desired good, she lowered herself into her bath before calling on Maren. 

‘What have you got my lady?’ she inquired as she sat carefully next to the bath, her back to the fire to absorb the heat. Bria twinkled as she felt the soap between her hands. 

‘Soap Maren, this one is lavender but I have many in my trunk. You may have one if you’d like?’ Maren nodded her head quickly as Bria passed her the soap. 

They continued to make idle chat as Maren washed Bria’s hair, braiding and tying the front carefully as they spoke. Unintentionally, Maren rubbed her arm over a scratch on Bria’s back, causing her to jolt forward.

‘Oh, I’m sorry my lady!’ she apologized quickly.

‘It’s no bother’ Bria consoled her quickly ‘I forget they are there! The small ones are always the worst!’ 

‘My lady…ca…can….can I ask what happened last night? She stuttered, watching her intently as she waited for the answer. 

‘Of course’ Bria continued, explaining in detail the events which enfolded. As she completed her story, she couldn't help but laugh slightly at Maren’s facial expressions. It was clear she had never been involved in any kind of fight and the thought of it happening under her nose was too much for her to bare. 

‘But you have nothing to worry about dear Maren, Lord Ramsay saw them off’ she added quickly to the ending, hopeful it would ease her maids worries. Maren stared at the fingers, fidgeting like a child until she finally looked back at her mistress. 

‘So that’s why Lord Ramsay looked pained this morning’ she mentioned, as if speaking to herself. 

‘Pained?’ queried Bria 

‘Yes my lady…and his shirt was covered in blood this morning’ 

‘How do you know this Maren?’ 

‘I collect his clothes every day my lady, in order for them to be washed’ 

‘Has he no servant boy?’ 

‘Not that I know of my lady. Lord Ramsay looks after himself’. Bria looked up at Maren inquisitively, a million things running through her mind. 

‘Maren…I’m going to need your help’ she finally uttered. 

It had been a long night and an even longer day for Ramsay. He and Ianion, his second man has been planning how to begin their attack on Moat Calin and his head was a swim with maps and routes. As he reached his chamber, he studied Bria’s door swiftly before entering his own. As he walked in, his nostrils were met by a foreign smell but it was the view in front of the fire that surprised him most. Bria had made herself comfortable in his wooden chair and placed in front of her was a tub of boiling hot water – a bath. He surveyed the scene as he closed the door, watching her intently. 

'To what do I owe this pleasure?’

‘ I had heard that your cuts have been paining you and with the attack on Moat Calin any day now, I thought it best to bring you some respite’

‘You are most kind Bria’ he whispered, watching her intently. He was once again encapsulated by her beauty but in a different way than before. Her hair fell gently around her face but two braids kept it from her eyes which glittered and her dress fitted her like a glove, extenuating her curves.

‘I am aware of this’ she smiled as she arose from her chair, pulling two wares from her dress pockets – one a vial of liquid and one a lump of soap ‘these will help. This is garlic juice, it’ll quicken the healing process and this is juniper berry soap, also good for cleaning and healing. Use the garlic after the soap and it’ll help your wounds’. Ramsay gazed at her as she placed them on his bed, along with clean clothes that had been folded carefully. 

‘Why have you done this?’ 

‘Even monsters need looking after, Ramsay’ she smiled as she walked towards the door. 

‘Please stay with me?’


	7. Chapter 7

Roose pressed the goblet to his lips, wrapping his long fingers around its stem. His plan had come together nicely and the bitch had fallen into the trap he had laid. He smirked, sucking the wine through his lips. He had her right where he wanted her, leaving the final stage of his wicked game within reach. It had been easier than he'd expected to make her believe she was cared for, to make her believe she would be safe here. Staring down at the parchment within his fingers, he read it to himself again. A signature was all that was needed to bind it, _**her** _ signature. Rolling it carefully, he placed it in his robe pocket for safe keeping.

Taking another sip of his wine, his mind wondered to his bastard son. He was so easily misled, especially by a pretty whore with more breast than brain. It was such a shame but an advantage to Roose. He knew Ramsay would struggle to keep away from Bria, especially when she was ripe for the picking, dangling right in front of his very eyes. He was weak and easily distracted. Locke’s choice words of advice had lit the fire within and Ramsay always did like a good challenge, just like his father. He’d fallen into it like a pig into mud, revelling in the newly found attention and what girl could turn down a good looking man like his son? It wouldn't be long until he had them right where he wanted them, the full extent of his plan coming to fruition.

**True love? It doesn't exist…**


	8. Chapter 8

The words almost echoed around his chamber. He stood back, chastising himself for letting his thoughts exit his mouth most casually as his eyes widened and his breath caught in the back of his throat. Mere minutes ago he was planning an attack on the Iron born scum, an attack so gruesome, he’d even surprised himself! Yet here he stood, leaving himself open and powerless against the beautiful maiden who stood in his chamber. 

Bria turned to him, studying his every movement. It was clear he was not used to making such statements and his insecurities were laid bare in front of her. His steel eyes were wide and awaiting an answer as she touched the front of her skirt, unsure of how to react to Ramsay’s unexpected proposal. The silence was deafening as she opened her mouth to speak. 

‘Surely you would prefer to bathe alone? But I can return to apply the oil if that pleases you?’ Ramsay’s eyes shone grey once more as he agreed.

‘I’ll return in due course’ she whispered, closing the door to his chamber.

Deciding she has given Ramsay ample time to finish bathing, she knocked gently before opening his chamber door. Ramsay was half dressed, his shirt discarded on the bed as he sat reading a book. He looked up as she entered, smiling wryly. The garlic oil still sat on the table as he walked to retrieve it, passing it carefully into Bria’s hands. 

‘Where would..’ he trailed off.

‘I’ll sit on the bed and if you stand…here’ she pointed, ‘your back to me first, I should be able to reach all of your abrasions’ she stated, making herself comfortable on his large bed. Following her instructions, Ramsay stood directly in front of her, his broad back and shoulders facing her. 

‘…you’ll need to come a little closer’. He moved back slightly. 

‘No…more. I can’t reach the one on your shoulder’. He moved back again, until the back of his legs grazed his bed as her legs swung nonchalantly to the side of his. He could feel her warm breath tickle him as she opened the vial, pouring a little on her hand. 

‘This may hurt a little…but I promise you it’s worth it’ she confirmed as she began to treat his wounds. As the first drop hit his milky skin, Ramsay hissed in pain. Unsure whether to continue, she waited for him to instruct her. She watched as he craned his neck over his shoulder, his eyes shining. Again, she pressed a little more into his lacerations. This time, he merely sighed under his breathe. 

‘And turn’. Ramsay jolted at her command. 

‘Turn?’ 

‘Yes, you have wounds on your chest do you not?’. She waited for a response but nothing came, as if he was frozen to the spot. Suddenly, as if he waited for his courage to return, he turned to face her. Her eyes were level to his finely chiseled chest, which took her by surprise as he turned. She looked up at him, her gaze being matched by his as if he would lay her down and lift her skirt any minute. If the thought ran through either mind, they didn't let it show as Bria continued. Carefully, she decanted a small part onto a piece of clean material before placing it on one gash on Ramsay’s stomach and placing her hand over it to keep it in place. Ramsay watched her intently, his eyes never moving from her delicate hand. 

‘Your hands are so soft’ he commented lightly.

‘Thank you’ she smiled shyly as she retrieved more oil, pushing her hair behind her ear. 

‘No’ he instructed ‘I like it’. She smiled warmly at him once more as he carefully moved her hair back to her face. 

‘My Lady Bolton has asked me to braid my hair every morning now but I would rather wear it loose. I hate braiding it’ she commented 

‘Yes, I agree. You are far prettier with your hair loose’. The words stumbled out of his mouth like an avalanche. His eyes grew large as he finished his sentence, a thought that should never have escaped his mind. 

‘Thank you Ramsay, you are far too kind to me’. Her smile was enough to cause a pit to form at the bottom of his stomach, a pit of anxiety and lust. He was aware that the battle with the Greyjoy’s had formed a friendship of kind between them but never had any women has this effect on him. He wanted to learn everything about this warrior who patched his wounds. Every touch of her hand enticed him but his father’s words rang heavy in his mind. 

Bria’s eyes gleamed as the mended the last gash on Ramsay’s stomach before shuffling off his bed, standing almost nose to nose with him. She stared into his eyes for a second before directing him to his mirror and showing off her work. 

‘I cannot thank you enough Bria, nobody has ever looked after me in this way before. I wonder what I have done to deserve it’ he said warmly as he touched his newly fixed cuts. She nodded silently, not taking her eyes away from his as he turned to look at her. Without thinking, he touched her arm softly. She shuddered under his touch but she couldn't convince herself to move away. 

Suddenly, his chamber door swung open as Myranda walked in, stopping suddenly in the doorway to assess the scene. Bria, surprised by the noise, stood back as Ramsay looked to the doorway.

‘Am I interrupting something?’ she asked, her cold voice tinged with anger. Ramsay shuffled quietly as he glanced to Bria, who stood strong, almost growling at Myranda. It was clear that she didn't appreciate the interruption. 

‘Bria was simply tending to my wounds’ 

‘I could have done that’ she spat, eyeing Bria from her head to her feet. 

‘Is my presence here a problem, maid?’ Bria snarled, mirroring Myranda’s stare. Ramsay had never seen this side of Bria before and her new found attitude startled him.

‘Your assistance won’t be needed tonight, thank you Myranda’ Ramsay’s voice cut through the atmosphere like a knife. Myranda’s nostrils flared on hearing his words as she skewed her lips. 

‘Goodnight, my Lord’ she uttered as she curtsied sarcastically as she flew out the door, slamming it on her way out. 

Ramsay sighed loudly as he turned to Bria. She stood like a statue, still poised for a fight. She intrigued Ramsay greatly, one minute she was kind and thoughtful, the next a dog ready to pounce on its prey. He liked it and in truth, he liked her. 

‘I apologize for Myranda…she can be, well, very feisty but I believe she may have met her match’ Bria smirked as her fingers carefully traced his arm. 

‘Indeed my Lord, I believe she has.’ He stepped closer to her, staring into her eyes before she turned away. ‘I bid you good night’ 

‘Uh..yes, good night Bria and thank you again’. She smiled warmly at him before opening the wooden door. 

‘Oh and if I may suggest it, the oil and soap will be useful for Reek, especially if you are planning on sending him into Moat Calin. I know his wounds are far gone but they may ease them if only a little. Remember, even monsters need looking after sometimes.’ Ramsay furrowed his eyebrows, how did she know about his plan?

‘I know everything, not much gets past me, especially when these walls have eyes and ears’ she smirked once more at the confusion on his face as she closed his door.


End file.
